Henry's Not So Successful Experiments
by WillowMoonOwl
Summary: Henry Branwell- loving husband, brave shadowhunter, and disaster prone inventor. Read and see some of the more hilarious failures of this lovable ginger! Rated T just in case but there really won't be anything beyond K most likely.


**AN- This is my second fanfiction I've posted so I decided to do it about one of my favorite book characters-Henry Branwell! This may be a one-shot depending on whether or not I get good feedback and if I run out of ideas but I hope you all like it! (^_^') Please review! I love getting feedback and it always makes my day! All right, here you go!**

Henry's Not So Successful Experiments

"Charlotte! _Charlotte_!" Henry's voice echoes about the crypt, bouncing off the walls of aged stone. Tools were dispersed around the room, some seeming to have been left in the process of completing an action, a mallet lying on a partly- driven- in nail for instance, and others paired with objects with which they had no clear connection to. Papers were spread onto the multiple desks covered in meticulous notes, often covered in red Xs to mark the failed experiments. "Charlotte, darling, come!"

A rapid tapping of feet down the spiraling stairs that lead to the crypt announced the arrival of a disheveled looking woman who abruptly burst into the crypt, dark brown eyes darting around the room. "Henry, dear, what is it?" inquired Charlotte Branwell.

"Oh, hello, dear!" Henry piped cheerily, seeming to have forgotten yelping to her just moments ago. "I believe I've finally done it! My newest invention is sure to function properly!" Henry's freckled face was tinted with a pink blush from exertion and delight; his brilliant orange hair was tousled in a manner to which he paid little attention to, for he was far too engaged in his most recent achievement.

Charlotte's face, alive with adrenaline and rush, melted to an exhausted countenance. "Henry, I thought you had set fire to yourself. _Again_."

Henry's face drooped as well. "Oh... I'm quite sorry darling." His guise was that of a guilty puppy's, innocently apologetic.

Charlotte gave a sigh, barely audible, and strided across the room, her austere black dress flowing behind her. In a few moments, her arms were around her despairing husband, her small stature seeming to grow in size as she cradled the grown man. It was times like these when Charlotte Branwell appeared not so small. Henry had always been surprised by her transformations such as these, no matter how often they occurred, and this was no acception. His eyelids flew open to reveal his vibrant green eyes, but his shock soon subdued to a welcome pleasure. "Thank you, Charlotte," he spoke into her neck.

"Oh Henry," Charlotte uttered kindly before taking his face in her hand to bring his gaze to her own. "What was it you wished to show me?"

Henry immediately perked up, a joyous look spreading on his face. "Oh, yes! I've completed my latest creation," he exclaimed, now walking over to a contraption hidden beneath a violet sheet. The machine underneath protruded under the sheet, showing its bumps and jagged edges. He placed his hand on the veil concealing his invention. "Behold, my dearest," his hand yanked away the sheet, "The Incinerator!"

The item revealed was a cylindrical bin, polished tin. However, one could scarcely see the exterior of the bin, for it was covered in a plethora of copper wires like an entanglement of shining hair. The wires were connected to a kerosene lamp at the bottom of the container, only the glass encasement of the lamp was removed and replaced with a funnel that fanned out upwards to the bottom of the container. At the top end, the wires were connected to conspicuous red button that sat atop Henry's work desk as he placed the rest of the creation on the floor.

"Henry, is that the trash bin from our room? I haven't been able to dispose of my read correspondence for days."

"Charlotte, do you not ever tire of having to dispose of your letters constantly because they fill up the bin so quickly?" Henry inquired in a fashion that was less like a question and more like a means of enticing one to purchase his product.

Charlotte played along. "I suppose."

"Well! My most recent invention will reduce your conundrum dramatically! Allow me to demonstrate."

"Henry, are you quite sure it's-"

"Safe?" Henry interrupted. "Why darling, of course I am sure! Will you never cease worrying?" he asked sweetly. "And now!"

He began his demonstration. Taking a pile of opened envelopes and letters that Charlotte presumed was the stack of pesky letters she had not been able to rid herself of that had curiously disappeared that morning, Henry dropped them in the bin. After they had settled on the bottom of the bin and a wiggling of the eyebrows at Charlotte, Henry pressed the bright red button. Suddenly, the bottom of the bin opened up, dumping the letters into the funnel below. The kerosene lamp was ignited by energy that Charlotte could only guess came from the wires connected to it. The lamp in turn lit the letters on fire, reducing them to shrunken ash, taking up a smaller volume than they did before. Henry beamed.

"Oh, Henry, it's brilliant! It's... should it still be burning?"

The inventor shifted his gaze from his wife to his machine and saw the lamp still burning. "Um..." He wiped his palms on his trousers and bounced nervously on the balls of his feet. "Not exactly..." The mechanism sparked angrily, received by a shriek from Charlotte. The two jumped back from the machine. "Um..."

"Henry..." Charlotte edged away from The Incinerator.

"Um..." Henry was now pressing the screaming scarlet button frantically. "Perhaps a switch would've been a better choice.

A stray spark spat out by the furious contraption flew to Henry's shirt sleeve, swiftly caught fire to the fabric. "AAARRRGGHHHH!" Henry yelped as he tried to pat out the flame.

"Oh, Henry, not _again_!"


End file.
